


Hold My Hand

by WanderingAlice



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Episode VII Spoilers, I couldn't help myself, M/M, Spoilers, Tumblr Prompts, other people's headcannons speak to me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-27
Updated: 2015-12-27
Packaged: 2018-05-09 17:30:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5549222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WanderingAlice/pseuds/WanderingAlice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Finn holds Poe's hand. And then Poe holds Finn's. </p>
<p>Fair warning - some spoilers for the movie</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hold My Hand

**Author's Note:**

> I saw [this post](http://storm-pilott.tumblr.com/post/135968857499/please-consider-these-stormpilot-headcanons-poe) and couldn't help myself. This is my first time writing for Star Wars, even though I've loved it since I was a kid. I hope you enjoy this tiny fic, and thank you so much for reading!

 He was strapped down, unable to move, waiting on the pleasure of Kylo Ren or one of his minions to come torture him again. It was looking more and more likely that Poe would die here, but he’d been in tight spots before, and refused to give up hope. His mind ranged, trying to think of a way out, but it kept coming back to that one stormtrooper. The one that knelt beside his dying comrade and held him as he passed. It was strange. It went against everything he had been told about the First Order troops. They didn’t care about anything but the First Order. They were merciless, robotic, and fanatically loyal to their leaders. In all his battles, Poe had never seen one stop to tend to the wounded or dying. But this one had.

This stormtrooper had stopped. He’d knelt beside the dying trooper, giving him something to hold on to as he died. The trooper’s bloody fingers had left their mark on this trooper’s helmet, and he’d stood, seemingly shaken. Poe had watched him looking around, and a part of him wondered what he was thinking. Was he surprised by the carnage? Why? Had this been his first battle? Though Poe could not see his face, the trooper’s reactions screamed of a man seeing battle for the first time, overwhelmed by the death and destruction of it all. He’d been reeling, maybe shocked. Poe remembered his first battle, the first time he had lost a friend to the First Order. It had felt like that.

Did that mean that some of the stormtroopers were reluctant? That maybe some had doubts? Poe wasn’t sure. It was one trooper out of thousands that he’d seen. But he’d seen that trooper later on, too, just out of the corner of his eye, and recognized him by the stripes of blood on his helmet. He’d frozen at the order to kill the villagers. He’d watched as his fellows mowed them down, but did nothing. Poe didn’t know what had happened after that, after he was dragged away. But he couldn’t help but wonder what happened to that trooper. And if maybe, just maybe, there were others like him. 

* * *

 

What happens to soldiers forced to fight a war they never wanted? That question occurred to Poe as he sat at Finn’s bedside, waiting for his friend to wake up. What happens to all those stormtroopers who felt like Finn? Like that one on Jakku? Those who see the horror of what they are asked to do, and no longer want to be a part of it?

Finn had mentioned, in the brief time they’d had together before the attack on the Starkiller, that he was to have reported to reconditioning. Poe wasn’t sure he wanted to know what that meant, though he knew well what it implied. Finn’s mind would have been invaded, reshaped into something that conformed to the Order’s expectations. And this brilliant boy, with his honest smiles and open emotions, would have been replaced with a cold, uncaring soldier. The thought gave Poe nightmares. Nightmares of meeting a trooper on the battlefield, and seeing, through the mask, Finn’s face, eyes hard and flat, without any recognition. FN-2187. Stormtrooper. Not Finn, his friend, the boy who discarded everything from his old life, but kept Poe’s lucky jacket like it was important. 

He’s not sure why he cares so much, really. He’s only known Finn a short time, and yet... Finn rescued him. Threw away everything he’d had, everything he’d ever known, to save Poe and leave the First Order. He’d kept the jacket. Brought BB8 back to them with the map. He’d saved the Resistance. He was a hero. And here he was, lying on a table in medical with severe damage to his back from a lightsaber blow. A blow he’d taken while defending his friend. No, Poe didn’t know why he cared _so much_ , but he just knew that Finn was a good man, and needed to see him smile again.

He didn’t know how Finn felt about him either. But he’d been the one to name him. Surely that meant something.

* * *

 

Finn is... Finn is unbelievable. Poe knows he thinks that at least twice a day. Probably more. But it’s true. After waking up from a medical coma, the first thing Finn had done was ask about Rey. The second had been to ask about General Organa, how she was doing after Han’s death. The third had been to sit up and give Poe a hug, and thank him for watching over him. Poe had hugged him back, but laughed off his gratitude. It wasn’t necessary, he’d done it because he wanted to. Nothing more.

The thing was, he kept watching over Finn. Whenever he wasn’t on patrol, he could be found at Finn’s side, helping him regain the use of his limbs. He stayed with him throughout the physical therapy and rehabilitation. And he soon found out two things. One- Finn knew next to nothing about the universe outside of the First Order. And Two- when Finn was scared or uncomfortable, he reached out for a friendly hand. For Poe’s hand. 

Poe loved showing Finn the universe. He loved watching his eyes go wide, and then seeing that beautiful smile break out over his face as he laughed in wonder. He loved being the cause of that smile. But what he loved most was when Finn would reach out, almost absently, and take his hand. It seemed unconscious, a reflex of some sort, like a child reaching for a comfort blanket. But if it meant he got to hold Finn’s hand, Poe didn’t mind being his comfort blanket one bit.

It wasn’t just when Poe was showing Finn new things that he reached out. During conferences with the generals, during battle planning or briefings, Finn would reach for Poe. When he was asked about his life as a stormtrooper, he would take Poe’s hand and grip it tight, squeezing it like a lifeline under the table. But he would answer in a calm voice, and no one would be the wiser about the death grip he kept on Poe. 

He did it during battle planning too, whenever they talked about ‘potential losses’ or the cost in men for each battle. Poe was never prouder of him than the moment when Finn stood up during a speech by one of the Republic’s generals and told him that the men and women of the Resistance weren’t ‘potential losses’ or ‘collateral damage’. They weren’t statistics, or acceptable numbers. They were people, and they mattered. Every life lost was important to someone, and if the Resistance or the Republic started thinking about their people as only numbers, then they were no better than the First Order. His hand had shaken in Poe’s the whole time, but he’d stood there and said it, and when he’d sat down, General Organa had smiled at him, and Poe had felt his hand relax. And then, Poe realized something. He was _in love_  with Finn.

* * *

 

Things came to a head the night before a battle. Poe and Finn were outside, sitting on a hill and looking out at the stars, when Finn told Poe about his orders. About the crazy suicide mission he’d volunteered to run. And this time it was Poe who reached out and took Finn’s hand. Finn looked down at it, and then back at Poe.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll be back before you know it.” But the dark circles around his eyes said otherwise. He’d been working so hard lately, trying desperately to make himself a place here. And it killed Poe to think that he didn’t see he already had one, with Poe. 

“I know,” Poe told him, and squeezed his hand, trying to make them both believe it. “You’ll be fine, you always are.”

They sat in silence for a while, simply holding hands and watching the stars. And then Finn spoke up. 

“You know,” he told Poe, “before that mission on Jakku, I thought that all I wanted was to be a good soldier. A credit to the Order. But then... I watched the others die. And the commanders just kept moving forward, as if they didn’t care. We were expendable to them. There were always more. Or, if they ran out of us, they could use the clones. _We_  didn’t matter. But I’d already known that. And then I saw what they did to that village, to those people who hadn’t done anything wrong. And I realized that it wasn’t just us that were expendable. It was everyone. The First Order might tell us it’s doing what is best, but they don’t really care about anyone.” 

Poe froze, mind racing. Finn was the soldier from Jakku. The trooper he’d seen kneel down to comfort a dying man. He wanted to laugh. It made so much sense, now. Why Finn had chosen that day to break free. It had been him all along. Poe wanted to laugh, but he couldn’t, because Finn continued on.

“And at first, I thought the Resistance would be the same. But it’s not. General Organa showed me that. Han Solo showed me that. _You_ showed me that. You taught me that there’s good in this world. You were the first to see me as a person, not just a number. And that’s... that’s worth more than I can possibly imagine.”

“Finn...” Poe squeezed his hand. “Finn, there are definitely good things in this world. Things worth protecting.  And you’re one of them. I hope you know that.”

Finn looked down, away from Poe. “I just... I don’t know if I can do this. _Be_  this, this Resistance fighter. What if-”

“You can.” Poe cut him off. “I know it.”

Finn turned back to him, and their eyes met. Poe willed him to see beyond the surface, to look into his eyes and see how he truly felt.

“Do you want to know why I took this mission?” Finn asked him. 

“Yeah,” Poe nodded, still holding Finn’s gaze.

“I’ve lost everything I ever cared about. Everyone. But now, now I’ve got somebody I can’t lose. Somebody I’d do anything to protect. And I’d go on a hundred suicide missions if I knew it would keep him safe.”

“Did you ever think that’s not what he wants?” Poe asked Finn. “That maybe, all he wants is to sit here with you, holding your hand?”

Finn squeezed his hand tight, eyes suddenly wet with unshed tears. “I’d hold your hand forever, if it meant I’d never lose you.”

“You never will,” Poe promised, though he knew such promises were impossible to keep. He had a mission of his own tomorrow, and it was likely one or both of them could die then, or in any of the battles to come. But he knew he would fight harder than ever so that he could come home to Finn, the man who had become the most important person in his world. He reached out and pulled Finn close, holding him tight against his chest. “You never will.”


End file.
